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amang arms auld banks beauty better blast bonnie bosom breast Burns charms comes dear death early face fair Farewell fate fear feel flowers frae give grace green guid hand happy head hear heart Highland hills honest honour hope hour I'll John kind lass lassie leave light lines live look Lord mair Mary maun meet mind monie morning Muse nature ne'er never night o'er owre pleasure Poet poor pride rest round sing song soul spring stream sweet tear tell thee There's thou thought thro Till true verses wander weary weel wife wild Willie wind written young
Seite 18 - O'er a' the ills o' life victorious! But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed ; Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white — then melts for ever ; Or like the Borealis race, That flit ere you can point their place; Or like the rainbow's lovely form / Evanishing amid the storm. — Nae man can tether time or tide; The hour approaches Tam maun ride; That hour, o...
Seite 84 - O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane. There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawy bosom sun-ward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies ! Such is the fate of artless maid, Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade, By love's simplicity betray'd, And guileless trust, Till she like thee, all soil'd, is laid Low i
Seite 35 - The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of God on high ; Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; Or how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; Or Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry ; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire ; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
Seite 527 - IT was a' for our rightfu' King We left fair Scotland's strand; It was a' for our rightfu' King We e'er saw Irish land, My dear — We e'er saw Irish land. Now a' is done that men can do, And a...
Seite 23 - Wi' mony an eldritch skreech and hollow. Ah, Tam! Ah, Tam! thou'll get thy fairin! In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin! In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin! Kate soon will be a woefu
Seite 35 - Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays : Hope " springs exulting on triumphant wing," That thus they all shall meet in future days : There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear ; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.
Seite 37 - Heaven their simple lives prevent From luxury's contagion, weak and vile ; Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, A virtuous populace may rise the while, And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd Isle. O Thou ! who pour'd the patriotic tide That stream'd thro...
Seite 84 - mang the dewy weet, Wi' spreckl'd breast ! When upward-springing, blythe, to greet The purpling east. Cauld blew the bitter-biting north Upon thy early, humble birth; Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth Amid the storm, Scarce rear'd above the parent-earth Thy tender form. The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield, High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield; But thou, beneath the random bield O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane.